Arctic Rim
by crankyman7
Summary: Seven years after the end of the Kaiju War, the Precursors face the threat of extinction. Eager for vengeance upon the only race that has ever defeated them, they launch one final, all out offensive to conquer the Earth. This time, their avenue of attack is the Arctic. This time, their attack is swifter and more savage. And this time, humanity may need more than just the jaegers.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note**

_Pacific Rim_ is a movie that I greatly enjoy. A beautiful popcorn muncher action flick if ever there was one. Its one of the reasons the word "awesome" exists. And so, being on , it strikes me as only natural that I attempt a longer fic set in its universe.

There will be some serious elements here and there in this fic; the film had a human element, and I'd like to honor that. There will also be a great many things that will require a high level of suspension of disbelief. The film was not afraid to be quite ludicrous in many places, especially where its over the top action sequences were concerned. I fully intend to be over the top in many places- probably even more so than the film. If you are looking for a story that places character depth first and preposterous action second, this fic is probably not for you. If, on the other hand, you are in the mood for good, absurd fun, this may just be your fic.

To all those who ever whacked their action figures together whilst shouting "bang!", "pow!", "zap!", and other such phrases, this fanfiction is affectionately dedicated.

* * *

**Prologue**

Across a hellish landscape lit by a dying sun, there are scraps of metal and piles of ash. They stretch across the desolate, alien surface, the very air of which is heavy with rot and decay. The debris has been in this region for seven years- seven long years since the inhabitants gazed into the gold and blue face of the mechanoid beast and realized too late that the doom of their plan had come.

The region is uninhabited, though the world is not. Savage beings reside there, whose very appearance is what nightmares are made of, in whose eyes is reflected the same madness that sears the souls of those who would meet their gaze. They are conquerors, predators. Worlds have fallen before them, been consumed, devastated, stripped bare. Races have they annihilated, civilizations have they laid low. They are colonizers, taking possession of other worlds. They maintain outposts across the furthest reaches of the universe, havens in which pockets of them experience lives outside the realm of the human experience. These havens are fed by the main population that resides within the ghoulish wasteland. Currently, they receive little, for resources are running out.

Few of them ever venture into the fields of debris; there is no need, for they remember. They remember the devastation wreaked by the detonation of the mech. They have analyzed the tactics used by their foes to defeat them, have retrieved all that they wish to from the site. And they have been rebuilding.

They have meditated upon that day, have considered their options. They know that other worlds are out there, but they have grown obsessed. Their minds are fixed on the one planet they have found that is rich enough to support their race for eons- the one world that ever stopped them. Their stomachs afflicted by the pangs of hunger, their hearts embittered by a desire for vengeance.

This is the Anteverse. Its inhabitants are the Precursors.

And the time has come for their revenge.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**The Veteran**

Among those it is not wise to mess with are thirty-five year old, female ex-jaeger pilots. They don't take kindly to being flirted with by drunks, nor do they care much for the scent of scotch upon a man's beard. Like all who trained under the Pan Pacific Defense Corps, they are tough fighters, who know where to apply the proper amount of force in order to bestow the gift of unconsciousness upon an adversary.

In early June, 2032 A.D., the above lesson was learned by a man in a Yorkshire pub. The woman who taught him the lesson was Bailey Gascoyne.

Her lecture for the day complete, she lowered her fist. In that moment, all was silence. She had the complete attention of every patron in the pub.

"My apologies," she said. "I believe I was out of line. You may throw me out now."

There was no reply.

"I threw a punch," Bailey repeated. "I deserve to be thrown into the street, no?"

"The man disgraced the establishment, insulting a veteran," said the man behind the counter. "We were going to throw him out, but you struck first."

"In that case," Bailey replied, gesturing at the man's inert form, "proceed." So saying, she turned her back on her fallen adversary and returned to her drink. She didn't even look behind her as the senseless drunk was dragged to the door. The experience she had just had was small fry compared to a kaiju on the rampage.

The barman had been right; Bailey Gascoyne was indeed a veteran.

When the Trespasser had struck San Francisco, she had been in her mid-teens. She remembered watching the footage on television in her Brompton home, awestruck, yet not truly comprehending what she was seeing. She had at first thought it was merely a preview of a made-for-TV monster movie with phenomenal special effects. Instead, it had proven to be all too real. And it had happened again and again- and again. So she had taken notice. She had followed the development of the jaeger program, and had entered it as soon as she was eligible. Her duties had taken her to Australia, where she had been assigned as the secondary pilot of that country's own jaeger, Vulcan Spector. She recalled the mech well, and as she lifted her glass once more, the memories came flooding back. Memories of training with Liam, the man she called her best friend. Memories of crushing kaiju and returning to the Sydney Shatterdome victorious. Memories of the dangerous battle that had left her critically injured and unable to return to service before the jaeger program was cancelled. Memories of hearing about Vulcan's destruction and Liam's narrow escape- of her substitute giving her life to allow his escape, as she would have done in his place. Memories of the war's end, which she had learned about after being transferred back to England.

_Now, it's back to my early retirement. No more kaiju to kill, set for life after that bit of speculation and after receiving the monetary reward for my exceptional services._

_Very bored._

She raised the glass and drained the remainder of the liquid. This done, she bid farewell to the host and exited the pub.

* * *

Her flat wasn't too far from the pub. It wasn't rundown by any means, but it was nevertheless fairly plain, its lack of extravagance belying her comfortable financial situation.

Bailey knew how to project an image. It was what she had done during her days as a jaeger pilot. With those days over, she kept only the portion of the image she cared about- her demeanor.

_Ah, home_ she thought as she entered the living room and collapsed on the couch. _Simple enough. Home in Brompton was even simpler, though. I'd have bought that place back, if it'd been for sale._

_What to do now?_

She fingered the television remote for several moments, eventually allowing herself to press the on switch. Idly, she began flipping channels, only to stop a few moments later at the sight of a lithe, tentacle-sporting monster clambering through a neighborhood consisting of houses that appeared to be built on stilts. The heading ran thusly:

**Kaiju flattens Barrow, Alaska. Beast finally brought to bay, killed in tundra south of the town.**

"Déjà vu," she muttered. Then, the full weight of what she was seeing sank in.

"More of them. Oh God help us."

She stared more intently at the screen. A reporter was no being shown, together with a very familiar face.

_Marshal Hercules Hansen_.

"The world is on the case, finding this new breach," the marshal was saying. "Meantime, I'm already in contact with veteran members of the PPDC. The jaeger program _will_ be reactivated, and we _will_ teach these brutes that it doesn't pay to come seeking revenge."

"But won't it take time to produce enough jaegers with enough capabilities to counter the threat?" the reporter asked. "The world wants to know, Marshal, what it should do until the mechs are ready- and whether they'll be able to meet the challenge when they are."

"I can't give you all the answers yet. But what I can tell you is that we've got a little something new up our sleeve. We'll be ready to face whatever comes and win- this time, for the last time."

Bailey turned the TV off.

_More kaiju. Those alien scum didn't learn a thing from last time, did they?_

_ …__Did they? Why come at Earth a second time? What do they have now that they didn't before?_

_What do _we _have that we didn't before?_

She tossed the remote aside.

_Liam'll probably join up again in a heartbeat. Good old Liam, always the friend of humanity. As for me-_

An images flashed through her mind of the wreckage of San Francisco. And then one of Manila. And then many more images, all of other cities. Tokyo, Hong Kong…

Abruptly, she stood up and headed for her bedroom. Opening a drawer in her desk, she retrieved a piece of paper with a number on it.

"Right where I left you."


End file.
